


Sunburns and Freckles

by iisintrovert



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Fluff, Gay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, beach trips, experimental porn watching, mentions of depression, pining tsukki, slowburn, this is heavy guys, tsukki really likes yama but he's super afraid, tsukkiyama - Freeform, very brief but still there, very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-03 10:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iisintrovert/pseuds/iisintrovert
Summary: They sprawled on the grass, legs brushing and knees clanking together. They were both tall for their age, limbs long and lanky where they were spread out around them. Tsukishima peered up at the sky.He was sure that there would be bugs to pick out of his skin later, mud to wash out of his khaki shorts. He would apologize profusely to his mother for the stains, but at the moment, Kei couldn't bring himself to care.He watched intently as Yamaguchi’s quiet laughs puffed out with clouds of fog that floated above them through the chilly night air. Where they lived, the summers were damp and stifling during the days, cool and bright during the nights. Air conditioning units were non-existent. The only relief from the sweltering heat was outside during the night. This was part of the reason Yamaguchi biked two neighborhoods over to his house every night to hang out for a few hours. At least, Kei hoped it was only part. He wanted Yamaguchi to enjoy spending time with him. He’d never vocalize that desire.He really wished he could.Alt. summary: a story of internalized homophobia, being in love with your childhood best friend, and eventual happiness.





	1. Chapter One: Cinnamon

They sprawled on the grass, legs brushing and knees clanking together. They were both tall for their age, limbs long and lanky where they were spread out around them. Tsukishima peered up at the sky.

He was sure that there would be bugs to pick out of his skin later, mud to wash out of his khaki shorts. He would apologize profusely to his mother for the stains, but at the moment, Kei couldn't bring himself to care.

It was the week before they would be attending high school. They were both attending Karasuno, thank God. There was a voice in his mind constantly reminding him that he needed to finish his summer homework.

The back of his head felt slightly damp from the dew on the green grass below them. For a few moments, earlier in the kitchen, they had debated bringing out towels to lie on. Kei silently thanked Tadashi for convincing him to do the opposite.

He watched intently as Yamaguchi’s quiet laughs puffed out with clouds of fog that floated above them through the chilly night air. Where they lived, the summers were damp and stifling during the days, cool and bright during the nights. Air conditioning units were non-existent. The only relief from the sweltering heat was outside during the night. This was part of the reason Yamaguchi biked two neighborhoods over to his house every night to hang out for a few hours. At least, Kei hoped it was only part. He wanted Yamaguchi to enjoy spending time with him. He’d never vocalize that desire.

He really wished he could.

The tails of fire flies blinked in and out of existence above them like sporadic christmas tree lights, blending in with the pale glow of the stars and the silvery threads that fell from the moon onto Yamaguchi’s face. The gray light made his freckles show darker against the contrast of his tan skin. He had darker skin than Kei did, and a smattering of freckles that were almost black in comparison. During the summer months they grew in number, spreading over his complexion, his shoulders and kneecaps, the space between his knuckles, the soft part of his inner wrists. Kei liked to play a game with himself where he’d see how many he could count before he had to turn his head so Yamaguchi wouldn’t notice. It’s just that there were _so many_ that he could barely make a dent in them.

Kei closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of summer air. It smelled of mud and bee flowers. It really was like they were kids again -- unabashed, young and giggly, unafraid of stains and dirt and getting caught holding hands in the grass. Well, Yamaguchi was giggly. Kei was still stoic, as he had always been, but happiness was prevalent and he could feel it winding around in his rib cage. Familiar and warm. Just like how Yamaguchi was at his side. The beginnings of a rare type of smile quirked at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Yamaguchi asked, stretching with his arms behind his head.

His eyes shot open. Kei was taken aback. He frowned, looking up into the face of the sky. The stars winked back at him. He wondered if any of them were ships, swimming through the inky darkness, searching for something, anything they could call home. His frown deepened. “I...I don't know.” He lied. 

The thought of aliens out there made him feel dreadfully lonely. Some familiar feeling, biting at his heart, and stinging the inside of his brain. Kei dug his bare heels into the dirt and wound his fingers into the grass. 

He was about to drift off into a restless sleep when he heard the rustle of crunching leaves beside him. Yamaguchi pushed himself from the dirt and stumbled over to where his bike was leaning against the fence around his back yard. He was currently in a quite awkward stage of development where his arms and legs were growing too fast for his brain to remember their shape. Kei knew there were bruises on his hips and elbows from where he had misjudged his actual size, causing his sides to slam into tables and doorways and corners.

Kei clambered up himself, brushing at his backside to rid his shorts of any lingering crumbs of dirt and wet grass blades. “What are you doing?”

Yamaguchi shrugged. He brushed at imaginary dust on the handle bars. “I should be heading back before it gets too late.”

“You can stay the night, you know.” he muttered, attempting to keep his voice from shaking on every syllable. He was surprised at how level he sounded. “My parents won’t care. They’re still out getting dinner, they probably won’t even notice when they get home.”

Yamaguchi perked up immediately, losing his hold on his bike and dropping it over both of his feet. He winced and stepped backwards. “I mean…”

“C’mon, don’t be dumb. Just stay the night.”

_Please, please, please…_

Yama sighed, smiling brightly. “Alright!”

Relief tore through him, and Kei lied back down against the grass.

Later that night, Kei threw open the refrigerator and stared at the half-empty milk bottle, wondering if there would be enough for the both of them to have chocolate milk. He decided that even if there wasn't, Yamaguchi would get a full mug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were in the same class. Thank the gods above and their planning, because Tsukishima didn’t know what would happen to their friendship if they didn’t get to spend time with each other every day like they usually did. There was much more homework in high school, and he was sure that their nightly get-togethers and sleepovers would have to cease if their grades began to suffer because of them.

But it was okay. They were in the same class, they could do projects together, they would have many of the same homework assignments, they could even study together -- it would be _okay_ and Yamaguchi would still be next to him.

After all of these years, he was still worried that he wouldn’t have Yamaguchi beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tsukishima didn’t know who these two idiots were, but he knew that he didn’t like them. They were infuriatingly exuberant and exasperatingly energized, and it was all annoying and unnecessary. Oh, Yamaguchi and him were going to _crush_ them.

The smaller one was sprinting backwards to catch the ball. All Tsukishima had to do was stick his hand out. He caught the volleyball right above his face. “Oh, you’re really doing this outside?”

The two paused where they were. The smaller one whined with indignance and turned around to stare at him. Tsukishima lifted an eyebrow. “Are you the first-years who stirred up trouble on the first day?”

“And in tee-shirts? Must be chilly.” Yamaguchi chuckled.

“H-hey, Give it back!” He squacked, reaching for the ball. Tsukki just lifted his hand out of reach.

“Isn’t it time for elementary school boys to go home?” He asked, smirking down at the kid. He couldn’t even reach his hand when he jumped. And he thought he was going to play volleyball? It was laughable.

The kid balled up his fists and seethed. “Who are you guys anyway?!”

The king sighed. “You’re the other first years joining the club.” He narrowed his eyes and directed his gaze at Tsukishima. “You, how tall are you?”

_Who does this kid think he is?_

Yamaguchi puffed out his chest. “Tsukki is almost one-hundred and ninety centimeters tall!”

“What are you bragging about, Yamaguchi?”

“Ah, sorry Tsukki,” He amended, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

He turned away from his friend and grinned down at the two first years. The younger one was still fuming silently, but the King seemed to pay no mind. He was still narrowed in on them with fury in his eyes. “You’re Kageyama of Kitagawa Daiichi, aren’t you? What’s an elite like you doing at Karasuno?” Kei already knew the answer.

The smaller one stomped his foot. Really, he was childlike, and that wasn’t even dependent on his height. “We won’t lose this saturday, you here me?!” The shouting was unnecessary. Kei smiled down at him. It was adorable that they still believed they had a chance, even though they couldn’t even work together.

“Oh, I see. It might be an important match for you two,” he tossed the ball in the air and caught it in his palm. “It doesn’t really matter to me if I win or lose, so I can go easy on you if you like.”

That seemed to do the trick. Kageyama turned an angry shade of read and balled his hands into fists, mouth furrowing into the thin line of a frown.

“Maybe I’ll win against the King this Saturday…”

He guess his egging might have gone a bit too far when the King reached out and tugged him forward by the neck of his uniform. Yamaguchi gasped out in surprise. “Tsukki!”

The King gave him a cold look, and shoved him away. There wasn’t any force behind the push. He turned, collected his bag, and threw it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Hinata, let’s go.”

Kei smirked. Of course, the egocentric King was just a coward. “Running away again, I see?” Kei huffed, tossing the volleyball up in the air.

A flash of orange and white crossed his vision.

He frowned, recoiling, and never felt the pressure of the ball landing back in his palm.

_Could he have just...no, it’s impossible._

Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, the shrimpy one was resting my his feet, the volleyball clutched between his outstretched hands. “Don’t talk to him like that. I’m here too, you know.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Kei was almost...impressed.

Hinata, perturbed that Kei wasn’t acknowledging him, put his fists up and waved them in front of him. “What, wanna fight, bastard?”

_Tch._ They didn’t deserve that. They might be good at volleyball, and the short one could jump, but they were still annoying idiots.

“Let’s not get to intense.” he tried, smiling down at him. He looked up at him, seemingly baffled. “Well, see you later.” Kei turned and met Yamaguchi’s gaze, motioning with his chin towards the gate. Yamaguchi followed him, turning back for only a second as he peered at Hinata.

“Hey!” He called. Kei froze, his back still facing the shrimpy one. “Who are you guys?!”

He smirked, meeting Yamaguchi’s gaze again. “First-year, class-four, Tsukishima Kei.”

Yama grinned. Oh, he loved that smile. “Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your tosses.”

“See ya.” The pleasant lilt of Yamaguchi’s voice sent a shiver down his spine.

He rushed to get away before King/Shrimpy could see the faint blush that he just _knew_ was rising on his cheeks.

Kei hated how vulnerable his friend made him feel. He wished that he was stronger. As his father said, he shouldn’t be so dependent on someone else, someone his age, someone who already had so much power over him. Kei shook his head ruefully and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He focused on the weight of his headphones against his neck, of each impact of his feet against the asphalt.

Yamaguchi trotted after him, his feet kicking up gravel and dirt along the path. “Hey wait, Tsukki, are you alright?”

He sighed, gritting his teeth together. “People who are intense for no reason get on my nerves.”

Yama nodded. He nudged Tsukki’s shoulder with his own, a brush of confidence that made goosebumps pop up over his skin.

They walked back home in silence, keeping the fireflies company. When they arrived at Kei’s backyard, Yamaguchi made to retrieve his bike from where it was hooked against their wooden fence.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Kei asked, frown lines etched into his forehead.

He shrugged, nodding towards the road in the general direction of his house. “I was gonna head home. We have homework, you know, we don’t want to get behind on the first week.”

“Of course,” he responded, attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice. It worked, apparently, because Yamaguchi smiled at him and rolled his bike out onto the street. He swung his leg over the seat and kicked off, pedaling with his back arched over the handlebars. Kei wished he wore a helmet. “Were still on for Friday, right!?” he called after him.

Yamaguchi turned at the last second and waved, calling out an affirmation that could have woken up the whole block.

He let out a drawn-out breath and tilted his head up to the sky. The stars were bright that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That Saturday came with a whirlwind of barely suppressed emotions and an internal conversation with himself.

The truth was, he didn’t know another way to act in front of people. Intensity bothered him, tension overwhelmed him. He was sensitive, much more sensitive to other’s feelings than he liked to let on. Their opponents seemed to be fighting for their lives. They treated the sport, and in turn the club, like it was their only lifeline.

It irked him. Kei could only think of one thing that made himself feel that way.

Their super quick was incredible to watch, and devastating to hear. The loud _smack_ of it when it hit the court ricocheted up through the soles of their feet and into their chests like a gunshot. Afterwards, he made eye contact with Yamaguchi over their captain’s head, his mouth wide open in shock.

Their defeat got on his nerves.

He wanted to be better than them. Kei wanted Yamaguchi to see him _win_. He wanted to see that smile, that victorious look he’s only seen a few times before in their middle school years. It was a particular expression, and for whatever reason, Kei was addicted to it.

He was addicted to a lot of things that Yamaguchi did.

It scared him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Monday, and the school day had been uncomfortably hot for their fall uniforms and excruciatingly boring. Kei wasn’t in the mood to study or do anything besides relax and read in his bedroom with the shades drawn. So, naturally, when Yamaguchi asked if he could come over to work on the English homework, he accepted immediately.

They arrived at Kei’s house, microwaved some left-over tempura from the night before, and brought their bowls upstairs to eat in the comfort of his room.

Yamaguchi spread his notes and papers around him like a nest. He plopped down in the middle of it and put his head his hands, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “This is too much for this early in the semester.”

“What’s new?” he asked dryly, flopping back against the side of his bed. He was exhausted from being at school all day.

Yamaguchi grinned. “There is a pretty girl who keeps talking to me in one of my class.”

“Who?”

“Kou. She’s the one who always sits in the front, with the braids.”

“You could just ignore her and she might give up.” Kei said, shrugging. He hadn’t heard much about the girls in their class from Yama, and was pretty sure that he had as little interest in them as Kei did.

He chuckled. “No, the problem is that she only seems to be talking to me in order to learn more about _you._ ”

Kei froze. The thought of a girl trailing after him was a bit unnerving. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about it, only that he didn’t appreciate it and had no interest in talking to her. He kept silent, electing to tip his head against the bedspread and close his eyes instead.

Yamaguchi poked him under the ribs and gave him this cheshire grin. Tsukki counted the smile wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes. “I could invite her to study with us, if you want.”

“No!” he responded a bit too quickly. “I mean...I don’t even know her. Why would I want her to think I like her? Just...tell her I’m not interested in dating or anything.”

He felt Yamaguchi’s elbow move away from his rib cage as he leaned back and peered at the notes. He knew what usually came next: _What, is she not pretty enough for you? She’s a perfectly nice girl. It would do you good to relax and get a girlfriend._

_You know, if you don’t start crushing on girls people are going to think you’re...you know._

Kei’s whole body tensed up in preparation. Maybe he should have lied and said yes, maybe he should have talked about her, or given some excuse, or mentioned some other random first year girl. Maybe make up a name for some second year girl for maximum impossibility and just pretend.

Whatever he was preparing for didn’t come.

Yamaguchi just laughed. “Fine by me.” he said, handing Kei one of their homework sheets.

Kei tried to hide the sigh of relief that came tumbling from his lips. He looked down at the compound sentences and started working on translating them back to Japanese. It was good to put his mind off it -- _it._

The great, ever present “it.”

He _was_ putting it off. He knew he wasn’t being truthful to himself, and it was ridiculous and unnecessary and cowardly and everything that annoyed him about other people, but he just _couldn’t._ Not now, and he hoped not _ever._ Not if it could jeopardize his relationship with Yamaguchi, or with his parents, or his spot on the team. He made it this far. He didn’t need to think about It, especially with Yama sitting so close to him on his bedroom floor.

Yama had nothing to do with It, he told himself.

_God,_ he hoped he was right.

The rest of the school year went by in a blur. They won games, their team managed to meld, and he hadn’t thought about It much at all. He narrowly avoided getting trapped into thinking about it at one of their training camps. A creepy third year from Nekoma insisted on talking with him too much. Kurro meant well. Kei didn’t really blame him. He didn’t even hate him. That didn’t keep him from shooting him a vicious look and shoving him out of his way when he tried to talk about Yamaguchi with him.

No, it was best like this. If he ignored it, like a wasp, or a particularly annoying classmate, it would just go away. Float off in the air and never bother him again, because he was boring, unmoving, and not worth the effort.

Kei looked down at his cellphone, his finger hovering over the call button next to Kuro's name. He stared down at the iridescent glow. The dark loneliness of his empty bedroom had never felt more oppressive.

He wanted to talk to him. To apologize. To ask him if it was okay, if he would be okay like this -- he wanted to ask about the second year with the dye job that Kurro couldn't keep his eyes off of, and if he was happy the way he was.

He saw Yamaguchi in his head. His smile had slipped from his face, and he was looking at him with disgust.

Kei threw his cell phone at the wall.

He told his parents it broke it on his way to school. They weren’t angry. Even after he told the lie, the void of guilt in his chest didn’t go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next summer was spent like the previous. It was a warm haze of bugs and bike rides, sticky ice cream cones from the convenience store, hyaku yen shops. The black knee length shorts that Yama wore nearly every day. Fireflies and wet grass on the back of his calves. 

Kei kept it out of his mind for as long as he could. At this point, he hadn’t even said it outloud to himself. He hadn’t even verbalized it in any way. Some part of his mind had made itself up and decided that the best course of action was to never mention it at all. To not entertain the idea. To not let it become a thing at all.

Halfway through the last month of summer, Akiteru walked into his bedroom in swim trunks, a t-shirt, and oversized sunglasses with a smile plastered on his face. “Hey, you ready?”

Kei raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

His brother planted his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out. “Did mom forget to ask you? We’re going to the beach! I rented a house and everything. You can bring Tadashi-kun if you’d like.”

Kei immediately perked up. He’d been wanting to go for a swim for ages now, but their parents were usually too busy with work to take enough time off. He had planned a day trip, but Yamaguchi and him weren’t old enough to drive, and he didn’t want to spend that much money on public transportation. This was the perfect alternative.

“I’ll call him up right now!” He scrambled out of bed and reached for his phone, all the while Akiteru was pulling his backpack out from under his bed. Kei dialed number one (Yamaguchi was his first speed dial, what could he say) and fit his phone between his shoulder and ear. He started to toss pairs of shorts and shirts from his closet onto his bed and kicked a pair of flip flops towards his back pack. “Hey, Yama -- do you want to go to the beach by any chance?”

_”What? Why?”_

“Akiteru rented a beach house, we’re leaving now. Can you come?”

Yamaguchi laughed. _“I mean yeah, I can. I’ll bike over now, be there in a minute!”_

“Alright.” Kei shoved his phone into his pocket, finished packing, and ran down stairs with his brother. He threw his bag over his shoulder and grabbed a pair of sunglasses off of the kitchen counter. Akiteru pulled out a paper grocery bag and started filling it with water bottles and snacks for the ride.

In no time, they heard the doorbell ring. Kei slid his feet into a pair of sneakers and threw open the front door. Yamaguchi stood there on the porch, struggling with his bike helmet with his school backpack at his feet. “I didn’t know what to bring, so I just through a bunch of stuff together. Are we seriously leaving now?”

Akiteru ran past them, towards the driveway. Tsukishima rolled his eyes at his brother’s eagerness. “Yeah, I guess so.” He nodded towards his brother, who had already started the car and rolled it up to the front of the house. “C’mon, no time to waste.”

The ride was long, and slightly cramped, but perfectly enjoyable with Yamaguchi hanging with him in the back seat eating cubed watermelon. They sat against the doors and stretched their legs out over the middle seat, knees tangled together. Kei tried not to shiver every time Yamaguchi’s calf accidentally slid over the outside of his thigh. He liked being in such close quarters with his friend, but felt incredibly awkward with his uncool older brother in the front seat of the car. Especially when Akiteru would occasionally give him this _look_ and smile at him through the mirror. Kei hoped that by the end of the trip he’d be able to pull his blush off as a sunburn.

Yamaguchi fiddled with his phone for a few minutes into the drive before he asked for the aux cord.

Akiteru hummed. “I think it’s here somewhere,” he muttered, reaching down into the passenger’s seat compartment. The car swerved about a foot to the left and Kei yelped louder than he’d like to admit.

“Alright, no more rummaging for you,” he muttered. “Eye’s on the road, before you get all three of us killed.

His brother had the nerve to laugh.

Yamaguchi settled for turning his phone to the highest volume and putting it in the cupholder. Kei watched as Yama flicked through his playlist, before he smiled and pressed play.

The car was soon filled with some cheesy male pop group’s love song that had been popular on the radio years ago. He rolled his eyes as Yamaguchi passionately grabbed his knee and mouthed along. He didn’t want to admit that he also knew all of the lyrics.

After five plays of songs that were dead, but very catchy, Kei gave up the facade that he didn’t know every single word to the songs and sang along with Yamaguchi as his friend used a water bottle for a microphone.

The car ride didn’t seem to last that long after that.

The beach was crowded this time of year. The air in the car was hot and dry and smelled of salt, and he could think of nothing better. As they drove past beach houses and empty land, picket fences and ice cream shops, part of him just itched to arrive. He wasn’t disappointed when they drove up to the coast and found the sand covered in towels and people, but the possibility of most of his plans evaporated into thin air.

Akiteru seemed to notice. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, shaking him roughly to the side in that older brother way, before smacking him on the back. “Don’t worry, we can go down to the beach at night too. It’s nicer that way, anyway, and most people are asleep.”

Kei nodded. He met eyes with Yamaguchi, who had a grin that stretched ear to ear. His cheekbones and shoulders were already overpopulated with clusters of freckles from being in the sun during the two hour ride there. He looked really nice in swim trunks and a tank top. It was one of the shirts that they always made fun of, with the comically large arm holes that went from the tops of his shoulders to the base of his ribcage, and it fluttered open to reveal more skin when Akiteru rolled down the car windows.

Kei tried to focus on other things.

They parked in front of their beach house. It was old and pastel blue with worn down palm trees in the front, grassy ferns and a sandy driveway, but it was right on the beach and a minutes walk away from the pier, which made it perfect. They unpacked, already ready to go out to eat. Kei wanted to swim, but his brother convinced him to wait.

“C’mon, we’ll have all week for that. We might as well relax for the night. The beach isn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Actually, because of the polar ice caps melting, the sea level could rise 20 feet in the next thirty years, which would effectively move the beaches inward and swallow up most of Japan!” Yamaguchi piped up.

Kei rolled his eyes. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Aha, sorry, Tsukki.” He chuckled.

Akiteru laughed at their whole exchange, with some hint in his laughter that he knew what Kei was thinking. It worried him. He wasn't even sure he knew himself. He was sure he didn't yet want to.

They ate salmon and cheap miso soup with garlic and crumbly tofu at a restaurant tucked behind a bar. Kei hadn't been inside a bar before, but he knew Asahi had gotten in one time, just to see if he actually looked old enough. Of course, no one questioned him. He didn't even get carded. Kei remembered laughing when Asahi tried to convince the team that he hadn't ordered anything besides a soda. They all knew he wasn't brave enough to do anything illegal, but they teased him anyway. 

Kei peered into the window opposite their table and watched indistinguishable bodies grinding against one another in the dim light of the bar. Some part of his brain pictured himself dancing with his friends, all lanky limbs and awkward shuffling, joints pressing together and the scent of freckles and cinnamon. He forced his eyes to drift back down to his plate of greasy tempura before Akiteru noticed.

His brother made amiable small talk with Yamaguchi. Kei shut the noise out of his head. The ice cubes in his glass were shrinking in the heat of the setting sun. Dives down here didn't have enough money for green tea, so of course they didn't have enough for an air conditioning unit. 

(Neither did their beach house. They found that out after hard water showers at midnight, only to end up sticking to their bedsheets with sweat.)

After they got back to the house, Kei waited for his brother to pass out in the master bedroom, grabbed Tadashi by the elbow, and tugged him out the back door towards the shore. 

The beach was completely empty, except for the two of them. The wind joined his regrets and howled in his ears.

Yamaguchi’s hand brushed his own. Kei nearly jumped out of his skin at the feeling of their knuckles touching. When they were kids they would hold hands all the time, tug each other around or run together so they wouldn’t get lost. _God,_ Tsukishima missed those days, the days before it became odd to touch other people his own age platonically.

Something in him ached with nostalgia. He sucked in a breath between his teeth and balled his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out, grabbing for the boy beside him.

Yamaguchi beat him to it. His long fingers slid down the inside of his wrist and palm, wound their way between his own.

Kei looked up at surprise. Yamaguchi smiled. “It’s fine,” he said, a barely audible chuckle moving his chest. Kei swallowed hard and nodded.

He looked out along the coast. The waves crashed against the sand, pushing and pulling at the shells. The water was icy against their toes. They didn’t care.

Tsukishima dug his toes into the sand. The granules bit into his skin like little knives.

He hated standing in this halfway point between the water and the land. It always felt like the sand was moving below him, sweeping out from under his feet with a tidal wave of force, and he already had so much trouble staying grounded. Yamaguchi squeezed his hand and pulled him back into the world. Tsukishima breathed in the breathy little chuckle that escaped his friend. “Do you remember when we were kids, we used to hike all the way to that little cliff above the river and just… _scream,_ scream everything that hurt.”

Kei just barely caught the whisper of his friend’s voice. Yes, he remembered. He remembered the sensation of relief, of a weight falling from his shoulders. He remembered yelling about school, volleyball. His older brother. His childhood dog when she passed away.

“We haven’t done that in a long time,” he whispered.

He nearly jumped out of his own shorts when Yamaguchi gripped his hand and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not ready!” He hollered, face tipped up against the wind. His face turned pink, his eyes screwed up, his shoulders hunched up as if to protect him from someone who wasn’t there. “I’m not ready for summer to end, I _don’t want to give this up yet!”_

And Kei stood there, his best friend holding his hand, angry at the world. The warmth left his palm. Yamaguchi took a step back and yanked his shirt off over his head. He threw it over his shoulder and sprinted into the surf.

Choking laughter tangled in his chest, Kei followed Yama’s example. He ran into the icy water and dived head first into a wave, let the water soak him through to his very core. It froze him down. It was _good._

Kei kicked up until his head bobbed above the water and he met Yamaguchi’s eyes. The boy was grinning and shivering, paddling towards him. Kei reached out to help him. The waves bobbed them along, washed over his shoulders, and Yamaguchi’s hands were still warm against his arms and all he could think about was how fucking much he absolutely _loved this boy._

Yamaguchi frowned. The smile must have fallen off his own face. He tipped his head back into the water, stared up at the starry sky, and screamed.

There were no words, just a tearing sting in his throat as the void in his chest seemed to empty into the wind. Nothing else mattered but the wind and the strangled yell in his ears.

Afterwards, he still wasn’t sure if he felt any better. But Yamaguchi was laughing and holding his hands and jumping in the water, and that was all he dared care about.

When they trudged back to the beach house, hair and shorts soaking wet, Akiteru was waiting for them on the back porch. He had a stern look on his face. He looked ready to give them a good tongue lashing, but at the sight of their laughing faces, he stopped himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of summer passed quickly. Much too quickly. Years before, he ached for the return of school, of structure, of distraction and workload that filled the hollow hours he spent alone in his home. Now, he wished those quiet moments could last forever. The way Yamaguchi looked, damp and sprawled out in the sand with this expression of hope and nostalgia, the scent of green tea with honey and ginseng and the taste of half-hearted bonfires. The heart, and the heat, of that year’s summer was something like a dream, all bottled up and packaged in the back of his head like a present to remember when he was feeling particularly sated.

The end of the summer was filled with avoiding his best friend, spending as little time as possible outside, jerking off in the shower and sobbing about how guilty and miserable he felt.

Fun.

He hated it, but part of him felt grateful that summer break was over, and school would be starting again. Yamaguchi didn’t have the same classes as him, which was gut wrenching, but that silent part of his head reminded him that if they spent less time together at school there would be less opportunities for embarrassment.

It was sick how easily he was able to convince himself that spending less time with his best friend was what he needed to fix himself. It seemed like these days, his life was just transitioning from hopeful happiness to crushing self-hatred.

On the first day of class, they took the train together and separated at the front gates without saying goodbye. Kei’s chest ached.

The day went by like all first school days -- instructions, rules, strange names games, and awkwardness -- but it was familiar and welcome. Tsukki could enjoy the softness of his uniform pants and the sound of slippers scuffing against the smooth wooden floors. The ringing bell that signalled class change was eagerly awaited, and seeing new and familiar faces in the hallway was a very good way to occupy his mind. His last class (English, his only class with Yamaguchi) ended a bit earlier than usual due to their lenient substitute teacher who didn’t feel like passing out papers, and instead spent the class period lounging in the teacher’s chair with his feet on the desk. Kei turned to talk to Yamaguchi, only to find him deep in a conversation about horror anime with the girl next to him.

_It’s fine,_ he told himself. _You’re allowed to have more than one friend. He can talk to who he wants to. If you go over there you might just make it awkward._

He sighed, turned back to the front of the classroom, and busied himself by staring at the sub, who seemed incredibly interested with plucking a hair off of one of his gnarled knuckles.

Yamaguchi didn’t wait up for him when the final class bell rang. He sprinted out of the classroom, a paper clutched in his fist, his bag draped over one shoulder. He didn’t even look back.

Kei just shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle. Of course, Yamaguchi was being absentminded and forgetful. This wasn’t particularly strange or uncommon. He couldn’t deny that it stung, watching the back of his classmate disappear from view, knowing that it hurt because of his own selfish longing.

So, he shook his head to rid his mind of the thoughts, and packed up his things. They had volleyball practice. Surely, Yamaguchi wouldn’t be late to that as well.

It happened just before practice. Kei had just finished shucking off his school uniform and pulling on his training clothes and was making his way into the gym when he heard the unmistakable sound of dress shoes smacking against pavement. He turned, catching sight of his best friend barrelling forward into the gym out of the corner of his eye.

Kei braced himself for impact -- it came quite violently as Yamaguchi’s shoes slid across the wooden floor. They crashed together. In his attempts to avoid touching Yamaguchi, his friend almost fell to the ground.

“It happened! It actually happened!” A smile was pulling at his lips, spreading across his face as he grabbed Kei’s elbows and started blabbering. 

Kei felt his blood run ice cold.

His muscles froze. He drew backwards without realizing it, pulling his arms from Yama’s grasp.

“It all just came out of nowhere!” Yamaguchi continued, seemingly ignoring his friend’s attitude. “I thought Ayako-chan was going to ask me about the homework, but she confessed! It wasn’t even super awkward...Oh! I forgot, we’re going to the mall next Friday.”

Kei’s back stiffened. He felt the world grow cold around him.. He frowned, his hands clenching into fists. “We were supposed to hang out on Friday.” he reminded him, his tone cold. He was ashamed to admit he heard a tinge of _hurt_ in his own voice.

Yamaguchi quirked an eyebrow. “Hah? I mean, we were, but…”

“I get it. She’s more important.” Kei huffed, crossing his arms in front of him.

“What?!” Tadashi threw his hands in the ar and rolled his eyes. “That’s not it at all! It’s just...I really like her, and I thought you’d understand.”

A breeze flitted through their hair. Kei squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses and held his hand up to adjust where they were on his nose, trying to keep his composure in front of his friend. “I understand fine.”

“I just don’t understand why you don’t want me to be dating her. You’re not making any sense, Tsukki.” he huffed, shaking his head. The ends of his hair curled upward and shook when his head did. Tsukki wanted to reach out and rub them between his fingers, just to see if they were as soft as he’d imagined.

_It’s not her, It’s that you’re not going to be with_ me.

But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything in response, just stifled a sigh and looked at his feet. Yamaguchi shook his head in disbelief and turned away from him.

Takeda’s calm voice rang out from behind them. “Yamaguchi? Please be on time for practice next time. We know girls are important, but the team was waiting for you.” He smiled, and Yamaguchi rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oya?!” Tanaka screeched. “Tadashi has a _girlfriend?_ ”

The word made Kei bite back a wince, and he hated himself for it. Yamaguchi just chuckled and nodded along with it as Nishinoya and Tanaka circled him. They screaming about their new findings like ridiculous middle schoolers, somehow a mixture of jealousy and pride for their Kohai.

Kei managed to keep his composure for the rest of practice until he was at home in his bedroom, when the tears started to roll down his cheeks and his shoulders started to shake with sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere between that Friday and the next weekend, Kei got it in his head that someway, somehow, he could fix all of this with a little bit of science.

If science typically involved porn. Which, as far as he knew, it didn’t. But he could try.

Kei had the whole thing planned out. It was a saturday night. His parents were on date night, Akiteru was at some college party in the next town over, he had the whole house to himself and no fear of being interrupted. He took his usual shower, brushed his teeth, and threw on a pair of boxer briefs and a soft t-shirt. There was a stir of nerves in his belly, but that wasn’t unusual.

If he could override his childish infatuation with Yamaguchi with thoughts of pretty girls, then all of his problems would disappear. 

Hell, he was even planning on writing the whole thing down and defining variables in his journal.

Yeah. Completely logical. Right?

It would have went according to plan, if he hadn’t broken out in a cold sweat before he could even press play.

“C-c’mon,” he muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. “You’re supposed to like stuff like this. It’s _normal_.”

He conjured up overheard conversations of boys who proclaimed they got off on porn at least once a night, if not more. Surely if they thought it was such an ingrained part of existence, then Kei could survive one video.

He sucked in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it whistle out between his lips.

It started off relatively harmless. Some terrible dialogue, really bad acting, a messy set and cheap stage lighting. All things he had expected. And then, the lead male with shoulders the size of cantaloupes and a jawline that could slice apples picked the small, willowy actress up by her waist and flung her into the headboard.

The girl in the video cried out, in rehearsed monotonous voice that sounded like it was meant to be excited, but was laced with real pain. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He almost vomited. His hands were shaking so violently that he could barely slam his laptop shut. His teeth chattered as his whole form shook with anxiety and pain and fear and deep seated uncomfort. He screwed his eyes shut and curled into himself on his side, burying his face in his pillow. He knew that he couldn’t do that. Not ever. The very thought made him feel so uncomfortable, so panicked, he thought he couldn’t _breathe._

It wasn’t just the violence, it was the mere thought of being pressed against some girl his age, her arms wrapped around him, breathing against him -- it felt like he was suffocating. He wedged his head between his knees and knotted his hands in his hair, his breathing ragged enough to send sharp pangs through his chest.

Kei didn’t realize until years later that what he had experienced is called a panic attack.

After he regained a semblance of composure and shook those thoughts from his head, dug his fingers into his mattress to distract himself, he opened his computer back up and closed his browser.

That was it.

Kei absolutely, one-hundred percent confirmed, did not want to date girls.

He couldn’t keep telling himself that this was just a fluke anymore. _God,_ he wished he could, but the evidence was staring him in the face, and as much as it pained him to admit it, there was no way to force it away. He was disgusting, and that was it.

He spent the next few weeks in an intense state of denial. He was not supposed to cry over his best friend. No, scratch that, friend. His _friend._ Yamaguchi was his friend, nothing more, nothing less, and Kei was completely content to keep it that way.

If only he could actually believe himself.

Yamaguchi spent a good chunk of his time talking about his new relationship, and Kei spent a good chunk of his time trying to ignore him.

It was incredibly hard to ignore, especially when his eyes were automatically drawn to Yamaguchi’s smile, and Asuka-chan seemed to be the only thing that could making his smile shine this bright.

The lines were so blurred, he wasn’t sure if he was frustrated with Yamaguchi for not spending time with him, or frustrated in himself for wanting to.

Either way, it was fucking him up.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Mulling _it_ over took up so much of his time. Without Yamaguchi to studying with, he didn't even have an excuse to work hard. Kei noticed his grades slipping before his parents did. He tried to hide it at first -- he stuffed his quizzes against the bottom of his book bag, pretended to forget his school account password so his parents couldn't find his scores online, even locked his door and told them he was studying when a he had to do was lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. He knew he was growing apathetic. The fact only bothered him marginally.

The last shoe dropped a week later.

It was their turn to clean up the club room after practise. They were tired and sweaty from diving drills and squatting for numerous receives, their muscles shaking and aching for a break. Tsukki passed the broom to Yamaguchi and made an offhand comment about meeting up to study for their english mid term that was slowly approaching.

He had the nerve to fucking giggle. “I can’t, It’s going to be my three-month anniversary. She’s really excited about it.”

Kei froze where he was standing.

He hadn’t been serious. It was a joke, in his head, he thought it would be funny to joke about the hardest class they took. And Tadashi....

Yamaguchi cancelled on him, _again._ It was for Asuka-chan. Of course it was. She was the only thing more important to him than Kei was.

He wasn't quite sure how the argument started, but it felt _biting_ as Yamaguchi turned to him, tears welling up under his eyelids as he tried desperately to keep them at bay. He knew it was about _her_. The Girl, the one Yamaguchi had been spending all of his free time with. The one he had been spending time with: aka, _not spending time with him._

_God,_ he was so selfish.

He tried not to look Yamaguchi in the face; he didn’t want to see his pain.

“Why can’t you just be _happy_ for me?!” Yama growled, gripping his hair in both fists, tears streaming down his face.

Kei's stomach felt sour. His lungs were clogged with sand, and his tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth, like a wad of cloth with no use.

Suddenly, Yamaguchi’s fist was wound in the front of his practise jersey and he was being tugged forward by his neckline.

They were so damn _close._ He could count the freckles that ran across Yama’s cheekbones, could practically smell his shampoo. He could see the individual strands of hair that fell in front of his face, the long, graceful lashes that draped over his eyes. Kei swallowed hard and tried not to let his eyes focus on the tears straying from his water line.

“Why?” He seethed. “Can you even give me an answer? Or are you just being selfish?” 

He opened his mouth, but his voice was lost. Nothing came out. His mouth hung open, gaping and searching for some excuse in the back of his throat, but finding absolutely nothing that could excuse the burning envy in his chest.

At his silence, Tadashi only grew more upset. “Screw you,” he hissed. He used his grip on Kei’s shirt to push him backwards against the club room wall. He turned on his heel and kicked open the door. Kei felt the brush of their shoulders and burned, anger and frustration and _hurt_ bubbling up on his gut. He snapped.

Without any warning, Kei surged forward and shoved Yamaguchi through the door. 

He went tumbling with him, the broom caught between both of their hands. Their knees crashed against the hardwood floors with loud cracks that echoed throughout the whole room. Suddenly there were fists in his stomach and a shoulder braced under his chin and it _hurt_ and it was too loud and too fast and too much all at once --

He heard yelling. He wasn’t sure if it was from himself, Tadashi, or somewhere else until he was being yanked backwards away from the swinging hands.

Kei struggled for a moment, his thoughts flying through his head a mile a minute. He recognized that there were hands in his shirt, on his arms holding him back. They were tanned, and smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. He peered up, through the matted wad of sweaty blonde hair in front of his eyes. Sure enough, there was Ukai’s concerned and bewildered face. Takeda was standing in between them with both of his hands out, his glasses askew.

It was deathly silent. Kei looked up at Tadashi. He was bent over, tears streaming down his face, his eyebrows drawn together in anger, his teeth grit in pain. There was a small cut in his bottom lip. Tsukki felt numb to the pain -- there was just the simmering heat of jealousy and the burning fire of crushing guilt.

Ukai and Takeda held them still for a few moments. Kei felt trapped in limbo, unable to move, to feel anything more than numbness. He tested the strength of Ukai’s fingers on his bicep by pulling forward -- not to continue to fight Yamaguchi, but to feel some form of sensation that wasn't dizzying and empty. The bite of fingernails through his uniform was grounding.

The teachers had a silent conversation. Takeda raised an eyebrow and huffed, shaking his head with disdain. He let go of Yamaguchi’s arms. Yama shuffled away with his tail between his legs, his hands gripping his own biceps where Takeda’s hands had held him back. Ukai held tight to Kei’s arms.

They led them into the club room and sat them down next to each other. 

They sat in silence. Kei refused to make eye contact with Tadashi. He tucked his hands under his thighs and bounced his leg.

Ukai sat before them. Kei had never seen the man look so disappointed. 

“You know, I expected this from the first years, but not you two.” He spat out. Kei shrank under his gaze. “I mean, really?” He continued. “You too are so close. What happened?”

They said nothing. It was beginning to sound stupid, even in his own head -- he had a massive crush on his best friend and was too afraid to say anything about it? He couldn't exactly say that outloud. It seemed Tadashi had a similar thought, because he said nothing as well.

With a sigh, Ukai leaned back in the foldable chair he was sitting in. He tapped his foot against the rug beneath them. Takeda threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Nothing?” He asked. They refused to meet his eyes. “Fine.” Takeda grabbed Ukai’s shoulder and tugged him up and out of his seat, out the door of the club room. The door slammed shut behind them.

Silence.

Kei bounced his leg to fill the air with the steady beat of his heel hitting the carpet. He felt like he would have lost his mind if he didn’t. There was still so much energy in his body, adrenaline flooding through him like the blood in his veins. The coaches talked for what felt like hours -- logically, he knew that it was only a few minutes, but his brain was too foggy to recognize logic as the realistic answer.

Finally, they opened the door and stepped back inside, seemingly thankful that the two boys hadn’t pummeled each other in their absence. Ukai took his seat again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“We’re not going to report you to the principle. Not so close to a game. That would be unfair to your teammates, because they’ve worked so hard with you.” Kei felt himself physically deflate with relief.

“But,” Takeda stressed, making pointed eye contact with the both of them. He dug his cell-phone out of his pocket and waved it in front of them. I _am_ going to be calling your parents.”

Tadashi exploded. “It’s not my fault! They’ll --”

“ _Enough,_ ” Ukai urged. “You two both fought with intent to harm. We saw the whole thing. It wasn’t self defence. Your parents need to know what happened, or we could lose our jobs if anyone found out.”

Kei looked down at his hands. They were shaking with nerves.

His parents would find out. They’d investigate his grades, interrogate him, they’d beg to know everything, to understand. Kei didn’t know if he would be able to hold it in to them. His mother, begging him in confusion, looking him in the eye with a plea -- he would break. He would tell them everything. _Everything._ surely, they’d hate him. They’d think him a disgrace. Kei couldn’t go through that.

He gave up his home number and prayed that they wouldn’t be home. Takeda met his eyes in silence. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but contested. He typed the digits in and left the room.

Kei was unlucky enough for someone to answer. He heard the first strains of their conversation before he clamped his hands over his ears and let his head rest in his hands.

“Tsukishima-san? Yes, this is -- okay. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When his brother picked him up from the gym, and not his mom or dad, Kei nearly got down on his knees and praised the gods. Then he saw the disappointment and befuddlement in Akiteru’s eyes, and shrank back.

Kei wound himself up into a ball in his seat, tucked his head over the seat belt and pressed himself against the door. The tension in the air was so thick he could have cut it with a knife.

Finally, his brother broke the silence.

“You're lucky I picked up the phone, and not mom or dad.” Akiteru huffed.

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Kei muttered.

“No, you don’t.” He let out a sigh, massaging the place between his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “I remember being a dumb kids. I did things that were against the rules. No one ever died, and it was okay. I don’t really blame you. I just wished you’d talk to me more.”

Kei shrugged.

“See?” Akiteru sighed. “Like that. You won’t even tell me when something’s wrong. And I _know_ something’s wrong.”

He flinched at those words. Something wrong. Yeah, Kei already knew that part. And now he knew his brother knew as well. Fantastic. “Like what?” he muttered, turning away so he wouldn’t have to look at his brother’s face.

“Like why you like spending so much time with Yamaguchi, but as soon as he gets a girlfriend you can’t stand it?”

He froze, every muscle in his body burning with pain and guilt and fear of _he knows._ “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he huffed.

“Kei --”

He slammed the passenger’s side door shut and stalked up the driveway. “I have to study.” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look behind him or take off his shoes as he barreled up to his bedroom and locked the door. He threw his bag to the ground, ripped his dirty training uniform off, and buried himself under his covers, the smell of sweat and detergent singing his nose. He buried his nose in his pillow. Part of him wondered: if he fell asleep like this, would he suffocate? Would he wake up in this world again?

Love never came in waves like it was supposed to. It wasn't gentle.

Love came for Kei like a fucking tsunami. It wrecked him and his entire life. The ground he was standing on melted away until he floated into chaos. Kei didn't have a chance, the grip of emotions wrapped around his heart, his lungs, tore them from his broken rib cage and threw them into the ocean.

It wasn't the guilt and fear that drove Kei to resent the feeling. 

It was that even after meeting so many girls, cute boys, people in his classes and at volleyball tournaments, in public bathhouses, of _course_ he had the luck to fall in terrible, gut wrenching, toxic, painful _love_ with his best friend of nine years.

It was the realization that he was so weak around Tadashi that it was ruining their friendship.

It was realizing that even though he _asked_ to be further away from him, the mere thought of being without him made him want to break down and sob.

He didn’t do anything. He tugged the blanket around him firmer, buried his nose in his sheets, and drifted off into sleep.

Kei didn’t wake up until midday the next day, still sweaty, still feeling gross. His mother was there with a hand over his forehead. Perhaps in his pathetic despair he worked himself up enough to summon up a fever. His mom let him stay home from school, frowning with concern at the sudden “virus” that conjured up eyebags, a red face, tear stains on his cheeks. Kei didn’t know how they got there -- there weren’t enough fluids in him to survive crying.

He skipped practice that night as well. He missed the weekend trainings, feigning being “busy” when Noya called him on his cellphone to remind him.

“Too busy for volleyball?” the third year gasped. Kei hung up on him with a roll of his eyes.

He stayed home all day on Sunday as well, lying in his bed, staring up at the wall until he could fall asleep. For some reason he still had dark green bags under his eyes, despite how much time he spent sleeping over the weekend. When he finally arrived for practice on Monday morning, the air was so tense he could have cut it with chopsticks. The events that transpired on Friday must have spread around to the whole team, because no one would make eye contact with him -- not even Yamaguchi.

He tiptoed around him at practice. The whole team could tell that it was stiff -- they didn’t laugh, Yamaguchi didn’t smile at Kageyama and Hinata’s antics, didn’t mutter a single unapologetic “sorry, Tsukki.”

Not only that, but the gym was a bit more full than usual. The graduated third years had come to visit.

Kei did the laps and abdominal workouts like he was told, kept silent and put in as minimal effort as possible. He didn’t chat with Suga, Daichi, and Asahi -- that was his downfall.

After half an hour of skirting around the rest of the team, Suga called his name out from across the net.

“Tsukki-chan, can I talk to you over here about your blocks?”

He ducked under the net and trotted over to where he was standing, his fists on his hips.

Suga planted a firm hand on his shoulder and jutted his chin out towards the locker rooms. They'd be empty by now. Perfectly private. Kei let his senior lead him into the room without a word. Tsukishima was the second year who was least likely to be afraid of Sugawara, and there he was, trembling and damn terrified in the face of those lips when they weren't pulled into an innocent smile.

He stepped inside, trembling in his shoes, and Suga planted a hand on the locker closest to him and whispered, “Just what the _hell_ are you _doing?_ ”

Kei winced, shrinking back with his arms crossed behind his back. Despite the half foot he towered above Sugawara, in that moment he felt small. Most of all because his answer to that question was _I don't know._

He was ruining everything, and it was so clearly his fault that even _Suga_ could see it from a mile away.

He took in a shaky breath and met Suga’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to, it’s just --” he started, his voice a harsh and cracky whisper. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded pitiful.

Suga huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re clearly in love with him, and you’re pushing him away? What good is that going to do!?”

Kei froze. That wasn’t quite the reaction he thought he was going to get. He looked down at his upperclassman over the rim of his sports glasses and shakily tilted his head. “I don’t…”

Suga stomped his foot and Kei could feel it in the soles of his feet. “I can’t believe that you --”

He fell silent.

The tension in the air grew thicker when Kei flinched away from Sugawara’s tone, the biting words a bit too similar to the ones growing in volume inside his own head. From an outsider’s perspective, the sight could have been comical. Tsukki, with all of his one-hundred-and-ninety centimeter glory, shrinking back from a skinny, much shorter boy with hair dyed fluorescent silver who was pouting and stomping his feet in anger. To himself, it just felt terrifying.

Some part of him was expecting to be punched. Another part was ashamed, even shocked, that he was even able to conjure up that though. It wasn’t unrealistic. Hell, he had half a mind to punch himself. Whenever he thought about The Big G Word he nearly did. And in this moment, confronted by a friend who knew, and was angry, and in front of him with hands balled into fists, there were thoughts crashing through his mind telling him that he deserved exactly that for what he was. A disgusting, vile creep who preyed on people who thought that he was their _friend._ Who thought that they could trust him. And they couldn’t, could they? He didn’t deserve their trust.

When the silence finally broke, it was with a small hitch of breath as Tsukishima tried to keep himself from shaking.

He expected words as sharp as knives, screaming, to be dragged out of the changing room and shoved out of the gym, for Tanaka and Noya to look at him with hatred and barely suppressed fear.

When Suga spoke, his words weren’t biting. They were soft and concerned, almost knowing, and they soothed over him until the taught line of his shoulders could relax enough to drop a few millimeters from where they were, tense and arched forward as if to protect from an impending attack. “Oh my God,” Suga’s eyes narrowed, then grew wider than before as he flung both of his hands over his mouth. “Oh my God, Tsukki I’m so _sorry._ ”

And then, those thoughts just...went away.

Suga pulled him forward by his collar and wrapped both of his arms around him, tucked under his armpits and wrapped around his back with enough force to press him firmly against the other boy’s chest. For a few seconds he stood unmoving. Still hesitant, he let his arms fall forward and wrap around Suga’s shoulders. He was just tall enough that the tip of his nose brushed against Suga’s silvery hair.

Before long he found himself breaking down in messy sobs.

They stood there for what felt like moments, but was probably an uncomfortably long amount of time, as Suga rubbed soothing circles into his back and muttered things about understanding. Kei managed to pull himself together enough to not bury his nose into the soft hair just in front of his face. He held his back straight and let the tears just fall.

Eventually, Suga shifted a few inches until Kei’s arms fell dumbly to his sides. He looked up at him, their height difference very stark, and quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want to wash your face off, and then talk about it?”

He nodded numbly and allowed himself to be moved over to the bench in front of the row of rusty sinks. Suga hummed to himself, washing his hands with soap and warm water, before he pulled away to roll up a paper towel and dip it under the stream of water. He wrung it out until it was only slightly damp, then turned to face Tsukishima. He rested one hand underneath his chin and used it to tilt his face up. Kei knew how he must look -- blotchy and red, probably blushing horribly, eyes puffy and worn out from crying. Suga wiped the cold paper over his eyelids and pressed it against his blotchy purple skin until it was less apparent that he had been sobbing. Yamaguchi knew him so well. Hopefully he would be too busy avoiding him to notice that there were dirty stains on his cheeks from where tears had traced through the grooves in his skin.

“So,” Suga started, rocking back and forth on his heels. In his anxiousness he squeezed the paper towel, which caused a fat droplet of water to run over Tsukishima’s lip and down the column of his neck. “Um. I know what’s going on?” He looked down, saw Tsukki flinch, and attempted to amend his words. “I mean -- I’m sorry, what I’m trying to say is that I know what you’re feeling right now.”

Kei hummed noncommittally.

“I’m serious!” Suga piped up. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“How’re you going to do that?” he grumbled, eyes darting to the side and fixing on a crack in the tile wall. He kept his eyes focused on that one spot so he wouldn’t have to meet Suga’s eyes as the older kid tilted his face from side to side as he wiped away the traces of tears.

“‘Cause.” He shrugged. “I’ve felt it. You hate yourself right now. Think there’s something wrong with you, don’t you?”

Tsukki picked at a loose string on his training shorts. “That’s because there _is,_ ”

With a sigh that almost sounded somber, Suga shook his head. “No, there _isn’t._ ” his voice was gentle, like he was reasoning with an upset child. Really, he was. A very tall, very upset child. “Do you think there’s anything wrong with me?” Suga asked, his tone an inch passed exasperated.

“What?” Kei didn’t have it in him to sneer, but he made a valiant effort. “Of course not!”

He threw his hands in the air. “Then there can’t be anything wrong with you for liking boys.”

“I don’t like --”

Suga raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on his hip.

Kei shrunk back in on himself. “It’s just -- It’s only _one_ boy. In particular.”

“And that’s not enough?”

“Of course it isn’t, I can’t be --” His voice tapered off, the words clogging in his throat before they could leave his tongue. He still hadn’t managed to say that part to himself yet. Not even in his head, forget out loud.

“Gay?”

He flinched, hard, scooting back on the bench until Suga couldn’t even reach him with the damp paper in his hand.

“Look, Tsukki...I need you to listen to me, okay?” He placed both of his hands on Tsukishima's shoulders. Kei looked up, meeting his eyes regretfully. “You may be a bit of an asshole to Hinata and Kageyama. Sometimes your blocks are half-hearted. Your dives need work. You’re a lanky jackass, you look a bit like a brontosaurus, and you’re completely oblivious to people around you. _But,_ ” he whispered the last word, stressing it as he squeezed his shoulders and leaned an inch closer. “There is absolutely no possible way for there to be _anything_ wrong with you for loving someone. I promise.”

The emotions that overwhelmed him after that choked the air out of his throat. “Then why --” He coughed, trying to swallow down the breaks in his voice. “Why do I still feel like there’s something wrong?”

Suga was silent for a long moment.

He didn’t say anything, just peered down at the wet paper towel wound between his fingers and let the water drip. Down his wrist, to the tile floor, on the tip of his shoe. He seemed lost in some sad set of memories.

Finally, without lifting his eyes, the tiny quirk of a smile flitted across his lips. “How does he make you feel?”

“I don’t know!” He hissed. His made fists at his sides in an effort to stay calm. “I can’t be near him any more, he’ll find out. And then he’ll hate me.” He swallowed back a sob. “I _can’t_ have him hate me.”

“Are you forcing yourself to feel that way, or do you feel different when you’re around him?”

Kei paused.

When he was around Yamaguchi, he was too busy being fascinated with the way things looked on his dark skin, how his dorky laugh tasted in the air, counting the small freckles on his fingertips and the larger ones on his cheekbones. The taste of food they microwaved together at midnight was leagues better than anything he’s ever eaten at a restaurant. 

All he wants is to be near him. They don’t even need to talk. Just sit in the same room, completely content and happy with how they are, together, quiet, and filling some space that was never empty but feels just the right amount of full when it’s the two of them occupying it.

When he was around Tadashi, Those Thoughts never crossed his mind. They didn’t need to. He was happy. Giddy, even. And when he felt sad, it was undercut with some strange form of hope, or the warmth of an arm around his shoulder, or the pierce of his friend screaming into the air with him about anger and sadness and want and _shit_.

No. Tsukki didn’t feel guilty when he was around Yamaguchi. He loved him. He felt that, among other things. But he didn’t feel like he wasn’t supposed to be there. All he felt was that he was completely content to just belong.

The weight of a warm palm on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts.

“Talk to him Kei. It’s the only thing that’s going to resolve this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Easier said than done.

Tsukki left practice early, his phone clutched in his fist. He sprinted off campus, along the train tracks, somewhere between the school and his house where no one could overhear him. He finally skidded to a stop -- he was heaving, breath coming in short, raspy pants. He peered down at his phone and swallowed, hard. He waited until he could suck in a deep breath, deep enough to calm his lungs down enough to talk. He pressed in the numbers. He’d memorized them long ago when the possibilities haunted him. He brought the receiver to his ear and listened to the hum of the other side.

“Hey…Kurro?”


	2. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gets wrapped up in a neat little bow for them.

Kei placed a hand on his heart and felt it pound against his palm.

The beat was steady, even, fast paced -- it helped to ground him, despite the nerves in his chest and the anxiety boiling in his stomach. He swallowed again. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth. This was stupid, so stupid, why was he doing this again? 

He hear the click on the other line and the gruff twinge of the man’s voice and felt his own heart jump.

He decided to be straightforward. Before Kuroo had the chance to interrogate him, he blurted out, “How did you tell him?”

“Tell what? Who?” There was a shuffle on the other side of the line. Kei imagined the man shifting, tucking his cell phone between his shoulder and ear. “Who -- is this Tsukishima?!”

Kei rolled his ears until he heard the distinct sound of a rubber tire splashing through a rain puddle. “Wait -- are you on the phone while driving?”

“Uh…” more silence. “No?”

“Be more responsible!”

“ _You’re_ the one who called me!” Kuroo spluttered.

“That’s besides the point.” Kei sucked in a quick breath and punched it out to psych himself up. _You can do this_ , he thought to himself. He shooed away a bug flitting around his face and pressed his phone closer to his ear. “I asked you a question. I’d quite like for you to answer it.”

“About that --” Kuroo sighed, and the breathy noise blared into Kei’s ear via his cellphone. He cringed and looked down at his feet. It was growing steadily darker outside. He could barely see his shadow. “What was the question again?”

Kei shook his head again and took in yet another steadying breath. 

“How did you tell him?” he asked again. He surprised himself with how steady his voice was. He knew Kuroo, he knew he wasn’t one to judge. There wasn’t any real reason to feel anxious about talking to him. Faking nonchalance was growing easier by the second.

Kuroo chuckled into the receiver. Of course he did, that cheeky bastard.

“I’m assuming you mean Kenma?”

“Whoever the short one is, with the bad dye job.”

Kuroo laughed at that. 

“Yeah, precisely. And be careful what you say, he’s _my_ short one with a bad dye job.”

Kei rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, just -- how did you go about it all? Without ... you know ... ruining everything.”

The pause after that was harrowing. Kei leaned back against a lamp post and clutched his phone so tight his knuckles went white, his teeth clenched together until there was an ache in his jaw. Kuroo was silent for a few moments before he clicked his tongue and let out a mournful chuckle. 

“I’m guessing this is about more than just my relationship with my boyfriend.”

Kei rolled his eyes. Again.

“Look, I already got the whole ‘love yourself’ spiel from Sugawara today, I don’t need your sorry ass giving it to me too. I just need advice.”

“How’re you handling it?” Kuroo actually sounded serious. He wasn’t playing this time, wasn’t even acting cocky. His voice betrayed genuine concern. Why was it that all of his upperclassmen were just concerned with how he was _feeling?_

“I’m ... I’m processing it.” he admitted. “I don’t really think I hate myself _that_ much anymore, I’m just scared. I think he might hate me. I think if I try to tell him, he’ll laugh in my face, or… or worse. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be able to stand that, not now.”

Kuroo hummed in assent. “Yeah, I get that.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments, just listening to one another’s breath through their phone speakers. If Kei concentrated hard enough, he could hear the sounds of traffic and the click of Kuuro changing gears, and the wet _shlick_ of his windshield wipers. Finally, the other man sighed and fumbled with his phone again -- perhaps switching it to his other shoulder.

“Do you want to talk in person? Maybe with Kenma and I?” He asked, his voice sounding less brash and cocky and more ... gentle.

When Kei finally opened his mouth, his voice sounded very, very small. “Please?”

~~~~~~

Kei succeeded in lasting the weekdays without exploding in Yamaguchi’s face -- if you could call that succeeding. Practise was still tense, but he found it bearable if he threw himself into the workouts. He fell into a deep sleep each night with bruises on his hip bones and elbows. His heart left the beat of a war drum against his ribcage. The pile of late school work on his desk grew everyday, but he found working on the numerous worksheets and essays to be a useful distraction. He lasted until Friday night before he wanted to tear his own hair out.

After a scalding hot shower that left trails of pink on his skin, he sat in his bed and clutched his phone in both hands. It didn’t take him long to psych himself up this time. He shook his head to clear away as many negative thoughts as possible and typed in Kuroo’s number.

He answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath and just a tad bit flustered. 

“Hey -- Tsukishima? What’s wrong, we’re all still on for tomorrow, right?”

Kei worried at his bottom lip. “About that ... could we bump it up?”

“Wh -- I’m a bit busy right now.” Kei cringed at the rustle of fabric on the other side of the conversation, and what sounded like a two pairs of lungs breathing.

“Don’t tell me you picked up the phone while --”

“You’re not one to judge, okay?” Kuroo muttered.

Kei’s hand twitched where it was wound in the fabric of his bedcovers. He managed to unclench it after several deep breaths, several thoughts pouring into his head to ensure him that Kuroo didn’t judge him, didn’t hate him, didn’t think he was awful for being --

He heard another weary sigh, and what he assumed was the short one -- Kenma, he remembered -- murmuring something in annoyance. There was more rustling fabric, and Kuroo picked the phone up again. “Can you be in the city in an hour?”

Kei nodded, then blushed when he realized Kuroo couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Kuroo said. “I’ll text you the address of a cafe when we finish up.”

“Gross.”

Kenma laughed and Kuroo chuckled into the receiver. “You wish!”

Kie rolled his eyes and hung up before he had to hear anything else he didn’t want to and tossed his phone over his shoulder. There was a thump as it fell against his pillow.

He fell backwards on his bed and dug his head into the mattress. Why was his brain still so foggy? Why did he still feel disgusting? He should be over this already. This was pathetic. First he fell in love with Yamaguchi, and then he stopped feeling terrible about it, and now ... now he still felt gross. Not disgusted in himself, no, this was different. This was something nasty, something that started in his gut and made his brain feel foggy and his thoughts travel as slow as through water and his heartbeat stutter worse than his tongue. Guilt, maybe? Fear? Whatever it was, Kei prayed that it would go away before he met up with Kuroo and Kenma. Or perhaps afterwards. Either way, this was supposed to help him, not make him feel worse.

Kei shot Suga a quick text to tell him that he was headed to talk to a few people about ‘all this’ and Suga responded in seconds with a party hat emoji and a few encouraging words. Kei rolled his eyes, but the sentiment warmed his heart. 

He sucked in another deep breath and stood up to get dressed.

~~~~~~

The train ride was blissfully short. The air outside was crisp and cold. It helped to calm Tsukishima down when he felt like he was hyperventilating. He peered down at his phone for the twentieth time that minute to make sure that he was in the right cafe, looked up to check the sign above the entryway, and confirmed that yes, he was in the right place. Kuroo was just ... late.

After another minute, it became apparent that he was late because he wasn’t coming alone. You know, like they _planned._

Kei’s only warning was a pair of muscled arms wrapping around his neck and a pair of loud croons.

He shot up from his seat in one of the cafe’s outdoor tables, spilling his entire chai latte on the ground. Bokuto wrapped an elbow around his neck and gave him what seemed to be a very affectionate hug. Or, it would have been if the kid wasn’t so muscular.

“Glasses-kun!” he crowed, swaying back and forth with Kei still in his arms.

Kei heard Kenma mutter for Bokuto to “knock it off,” and he was released. He stepped backward, one hand wrapped curled around his front to protect him from any other onslaughts, the other keeping his glasses in place. He turned to Kuroo and narrowed his eyes. The man gave him an expression that was both sheepish and pleased. There was a red flush to his cheeks, and he sported messier hair than usual. Kenma also seemed a bit ruffled and subdued. Kenma wore all black except for a candy striped scarf that he had wrapped tightly around his neck. When he moved, a bit of the red and white fabric slipped to reveal a very impressive necklace of hickeys.

_Think different thoughts, think different thoughts._

Kei shook his head and looked away from the embarrassingly smitten couple, which forced his attention to direct onto Bokuto.

Bokuto let out a very pleased noise that could only be described as a hoot as he took in the sight of Kei standing before them. He let go of Kei’s neck (thank God, he thought) and clasped both of his hands in front of him. It occurred to him that they were waiting for Kei to speak.

“Er,” he started, before clearing his throat. “Thank you guys. For coming. I appreciate it.”

Absolute chaos ensued.

Bokuto wrapped him up in another hug as Kuroo reached forward to ruffle his hair. It seemed that Kenma was the only person in this group who respected personal space.

“Gross, don’t touch me with your grubby hands.” Kei muttered. He didn’t really mean it, but he had to keep up some of his image or he was at risk of sobbing in the street at their kindness.

Kuroo got a rise out of that. “You wish you were these hands.”

“Tetsuro,” Kenma murmured. “Don’t be embarrassing.”

With a squawk, Kuroo wrapped both arms around his boyfriend and nuzzled into the top of his head. “What?! I’m wounded.”

The casual display of affection struck a chord within him. Kei felt his heart flutter. This time, unlike that at the training camp, it had nothing to do with Kuroo himself. He saw the two boys holding hands, hugging in public, unafraid to tease or giggle or stand too close, and he _wanted_ that. He wanted that with Yamaguchi.

His face must have fallen a bit in his wistfulness, because Bokuto mellowed out and took the seat across from Kei’s precious one. He leaned forward on his elbows and placed his chin on his hands. The message was clear -- they were here to listen to him.

Kuroo pulled two more seats from the neighboring table and pulled one out for his boyfriend. He sat between Kenma and Bokuto, mimicking their posture. Kei cracked a tiny smile. They were trying so hard. It was annoying, but he was grateful for it.

Kuroo cleared his throat “So ... what do you -- I mean, how do you --”

“I’m in love with Yamaguchi and I have no idea what to do.” Kei interrupted.

They fell silent. Kuroo’s eyebrows came together in concern. Kenma’s usually emotionless face faded into something sad, and Bokuto visibly shrunk. To no one’s surprise, Bokuto was the first to speak over the roar of the wind.

“Well, shit, man.” his whispered. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Kei could do nothing but nod. He stared at the metal grate of their wrought iron table and gripped his arm rests with both hands until his knuckles went white. He saw out of the corner of his eye that his nose was turning red. He didn’t know if that was because of the nipping wind or because he was about to cry. Both were possible.

Kenma reached out and wound their hands together. He met his eyes with an intense stare. Kei blinked back at him from behind his glasses. He looked on to Kuroo, to Bokuto, to the pairs of linked hands that rested on the table, and felt something change in his chest.

He thought that he needed to hear the story of how they got together, how they became comfortable with it, how Bokuto felt about it all. He wanted to know about Kuroo’s first time falling for a boy. He still wanted to know, but he didn’t need to. Not really. Somehow, seeing them all, having their hands linked in his, it gave him the strength he needed.

Kei knew that if things went wrong, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It would suck, sure.

(And _God,_ it would suck. Kei loved Yamaguchi so much. He couldn’t imagine a world without him. Fuck.)

(Perhaps that was unhealthy, but he didn’t have enough clarity of mind when it came to Yamaguchi. He cared too much, felt too much.)

But he would survive. Kei could continue. He would sob his eyes out and mourne like the dead, but he would patch himself up and have shoulders to lean on, backs to carry the weight.

When he spoke, the only noise he could force out of his closing throat was a whisper. “I think ... I have to do it tonight.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand in an attempt to mask it as a cold instead of tearfulness.

Two hands squeezed his own, and his heart throbbed.

~~~~~~

The familiar bike ride felt longer. Maybe it was because he hadn’t made the travel in months, but Kei felt like time was moving slower than ever. He pedaled with every last ounce of strength he had left. Sweat dripped down his temples and his breath grew shallow in his chest. His muscles burned and ached, but he managed to ignore it in favor of pedalling faster, riding faster, letting the cold air whip through his hair and his ears and under his glasses. He closed his eyes and let his body find the way -- up this road, down that, a left, a left, a right, cross the street, and then his house was right there and Kei was panting. His chest was heaving. It wasn’t the exertion this time. Breath escaped him. He gripped both handlebars as hard as he could, like the presence of rubber beneath his palms could somehow keep him anchored.

He sucked in a breath of icy air. His shaky hands dropped his bike. It hit the asphalt with a _whap._

He fell to his knees -- if he had to ask his mom to wash blood out of his jeans later, it would be worth it. He found a stone on the ground and gripped it in his palm. The sharp edges dug into his fingers. Kei reared his arm back and lobbed the rock towards Yamaguchi’s window. There was a sharp crack, some rustling, and the window was thrown open. The man of the hour peered out, disgruntled, his hair mussed into perfect frayed curls.

He frowned down at Kei and hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I just ... I need to talk to you,” he whisper shouted. He shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “About us, about you and … and maybe your girlfriend. Just trust me, it’s important.”

Yamaguchi frowned. Kei wanted to reach out and smooth away the lines on his forehead.

“Is this about her? Because we broke up.” Yamaguchi murmured. He rested against the windowsill and plopped his chin on his fist.

Kei sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, It’s not really about her --” He paused. “Wait, you did?”

“Yeah, she thought I was cheating on her.”

Pause. Tsukishima bit the inside of his cheek. “Were you?”

“No! Of course not! Not..physically, anyway. Emotionally.” He shook his head -- his hair was wild from sleep, or maybe lack of sleep as Kei could see from the purple bags under his eyes. “Give me a second and I’ll climb down there.”

Kei fell back against the patch of grass in front of Yamaguchi’s house. It wasn’t as well kept as his own -- the grass was turning yellow and crumbly from the sinking winter temperatures, and there were no bee flowers or patches of clovers. Yamaguchi’s house itself was a bit more traditional than his own. Kei could see paper doors from where he was sitting. He hoped that Yamaguchi’s parents couldn’t hear him through them. Surely they kept the guest rooms at the bottom of the house with the nicest, most traditional walls, but he couldn’t risk it.

He sat out there for what felt like hours until his nose burned red from the cold and the frame of his glasses sucked all of the heat from the backs of his ears. He wished that his hair was just a bit longer, just long enough to cover the tips of his ears and maybe the back of his neck, but he knew that with his curly hair that would never be possible. It would stand straight up from his head and offer no comfort regardless.

Finally, Yamaguchi’s front door was eased open and the man himself stepped out. Kei propped himself up on his knees and scrambled to his feet. “Yama,” he breathed, his cheeks flushing at how breathy his voice sounded.

“What do you want?” Yamaguchi crossed his arms. He was wearing a baggy grey-blue sweater and loose jeans, clearly just pulled on over his pajamas. His hair was a total mess and Kei wanted to reach out and smooth down the fly-away strands.

“I …” he lost his voice for a second as he patted down the backs of his thighs for stray strands of grass.

Yamaguchi lowered his face. “You know, I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” Kei whispered. His words were so quiet that they may have been swept away by the wind.

“You make me feel nostalgic about memories I don't even _have_ yet.” His voice broke half way through, worn down and raspy with emotion and exhaustion. “And I'm _sorry_.” Kei choked on his words. “I'm so sorry I had to go and -- and _mess_ everything up.”

“No,” Yamaguchi whispered. He took a step closer until they were a few handbreadths apart. “Don’t joke with me, don’t you dare.”

Kei felt tears welling up in his eyes. He shook his head and cleared his throat, praying that they would go away. If he was going to do this, it was going to be dignified.

“I love you, Tadashi.” he croaked, his voice no more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And then he waited. He let his eyes fall closed behind his glasses, He pressed his lips together and stood stock straight, waiting for whatever would come -- a blow to the face, a smack, harsh words, yelling, screaming, being shoved off of the property --

Nothing. He opened his eyes to see Yamaguchi staring up at him, his face a mix of shock, bewilderment, and pain. He took another step closer. His hands were balled into shakey fists at his side, but in that moment he didn’t look like he had the strength to lash out. 

He felt the warmth radiating off of Yamaguchi’s cheeks. His face was red with embarrassment or anger, Kei couldn’t tell which. His freckles showed like stars against the backdrop of the sky. Kei lifted a hand and wiped his thumb against Yamaguchi’s cheek. The pad of his thumb caught against a solitary tear that fell. He wiped it away -- he didn’t want Yamaguchi to cry. In fact, he hated himself for being the reason for that tear, the reason for the pain that was its cause. He didn’t want to hurt him. He only ever wanted to be near him, and now, even that was becoming nearly impossible.

Kei took another step forward. He was shaking so hard that he didn’t trust himself to take Yamaguchi’s hand without dropping it. And yet, that’s exactly what he did. He gripped. His heart jumped in his chest. Blood pounded in his ears. Yamaguchi’s eyes were as brown as caramel from this angle. The moonlight gave them lovely patterns. Kei could trace them with his eyes, they were so close that he could brush their eyelashes together. He could count every last tiny freckle in the corner of Yamaguchi’s eyelid --

The first touch of lips was so gentle, Kei could barely feel the actual sensation of it. He felt the hot press of skin against him, and the hand against the back of his neck. They were so close that he could feel the tremors under his skin. Heat radiated off of Yamaguchi’s skin. Kei leaned forward ever so slowly, and felt the shake of Yamaguchi’s bottom lip. He was nearing tears, and when they finally were shed, Kei felt the dampness against his own cheek. His hands trembled where they gripped Yamaguchi’s hips. His fingers traced circles in the bare skin between Yamaguchi’s shirt hem and the waistband of his sleeping pants.

Their second kiss was a wildfire. Flames of teeth, crushed noses, and bright warmth and light that wafted between them, a hot brush of a tongue against someone’s lips, Kei couldn’t tell who’s. His arms drifted until he had them both braced against Yamaguchi’s lower back, wrapped tight and holding close, their chests pressed closer until their hearts beat against each other’s. He squeezed so tightly that Yamaguchi’s feet left the ground for a moment.

And then he was laughing, smiling so wide that it became hard to kiss, but he did it anyway. They were crying and laughing and snorting, their grins pressed together and their arms wrapped clumsily around one another. Kei tripped over his shoelace and they ended up sprawled in the grass. One on top of the other.

Kei lowered his head and buried his nose in the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck. He couldn’t help but giggle until he was ugly crying, sobbing as he laughed and held him close. Yamaguchi’s hands made fists in the back of his jacket.

“Look…” he pointed up into the air, where murmurations of sparks decorated the yard around them. “Fireflies.”

~~~~~~

They sat there in the grass for hours, just holding one another as they hoped the night would never end. Kei felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Yamaguchi nudged his shoulder with his nose and he startled awake and held Yamaguchi’s waist closer. “How did you know? Who was your first?”

Kei gave him a small smile and hid it in the crown of Yamaguchi’s head. “It was you. Always you.”

“Well, now I feel embarrassed.” He chuckled and buried his face in Kei’s chest.

Tsukki nuzzled against the top of his head. “Why? Who was yours?”

Yamaguchi nuzzled into Kei’s neck to hide his face. His voice was slightly muffled, but Kei could just make out what he was saying.“Um ... Asahi?”

Kei sat up, a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, you know,” He shrugged. “I was fourteen and he was a hunk of muscle and his hair… _fuck,_ ”

Kei didn’t even have it in him to be jealous. He wrapped his arms around Yamaguchi’s chest and pulled him closer. “I mean yeah, I get it. I _kind_ of had a thing for Kuroo, if you must know. A very, very small thing.”

Yamaguchi shrugged. “I can see that.”

“Please don’t.”

There was a rock just under him that was digging into his butt. He shifted, cradling Yamaguchi closer so that he could move to the side. And arrange them in a more comfortable position on their sides. Yamaguchi faced him with a leg lazily thrown over his own, one of his arms under Yamaguchi’s head.

“We’ll have to get up soon,” Yamaguchi whispered. His warm breath fanned out across Kei’s face. It was still freezing outside, especially since it was the early hours of morning, but he felt so warm.

“I don’t want to get up.” he complained.

“Me neither.”

That seemed to be that. Kei dropped his forehead to rest against Yamaguchi’s chest and closed his eyes.

Saturday and sunday were lazy days, full of walking around in the city and midnight picnics in Kei’s back lawn.

Going to school on Monday was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. Kei was exhausted, he had bags under his eyes, red eyes, but he was so _happy._

At practice, he found the workout to be no more difficult than usual. The stares his teammates gave him and the confused looks his coaches shot him when they though he wasn’t looking, however, were another story. Yamaguchi made up for it by shooting him little smiles from the other side of the net that split the court. He tried to return them, but he was too busy scrubbing his face with both hands in order to keep himself from looking incredibly embarrassed and overwhelmed from how adorable that was.

Kei gripped Yamaguchi’s hand tight after practice. He held tight as they walked home together, ignoring the stares, Tanaka’s loud whoops and the sound of two first years exchange of coins after their bet had been finalized by the sight of him leaning down to kiss Yamaguchi on the cheek. Kei wasn’t huge on public displays of affection -- he abhorred it, actually -- but he couldn’t help that after spending the weekend walking around outside, his boyfriend (they had decided on that, together, on Sunday) had a line of dark freckles over the top of his cheek bone, just under his right eyelid that Kei couldn’t resist touching.

They walked the long way home, waited for dark, and kept the fireflies company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be more to come :D

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter should be up in about two weeks, but I need encouragement!!! smash that mf kudos button.
> 
> In other news, I'm taking writing commissions! If you want a short story, or something very specific and don't want to wait for an author to come up with it, or you've got some extra cash to burn in favor of helping out an artist you like, I'd be happy to help!
> 
> more info here: http://forum.deviantart.com/jobs/services/2290508/


End file.
